


Wistful

by flaming_muse



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: April Showers Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-13
Updated: 2010-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:52:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fall always makes Cam feel wistful for home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wistful

**Author's Note:**

> for carolyn_claire, who asked for Sheppard/Mitchell, wistful
> 
> Originally posted on my LJ on October 13, 2010.

Fall always makes Cam feel wistful for home. When he was younger, this time of year meant the whole extended family going apple picking at the orchard down the way. It wasn’t one of the big ones, just a little farm, but they’d always gone to the Ames Orchard so they always would. Some of his cousins had probably gone this year, too, and then rolled around in the leaves after just like he always had.

Back when Great-Aunt Lilah was still alive, she turned those tart-sweet apples into the most mouth-melting apple pie you’d ever eat. She passed down the recipe, but somehow it was never quite the same as his childhood memories of a slice of her warm pie with a generous dollop of vanilla ice cream right on top.

There is something special about fall air, too, something fresh and clean, hinting of the chill of winter but with the bright colors of summer holding it back. Every time he goes off-world to another planet’s fall he feels that same expectation in the air. It’s new school clothes and raking leaves all over again, no matter what season it is back on Earth.

It’s fall right now, or at least it is in Colorado, but Cam’s stuck deep underground. There’s no perfect blue sky or fresh air down here. It’s all grey walls and a Stargate that’s shut down for the next week for maintenance. What you need to maintain on a Stargate Cam doesn’t know, but he half suspects that it’s just an excuse for the SGC to schedule their teams to have the hundred meetings they’ve all skipped out on by being conveniently off-world.

It’s his duty to stay at the base, and he does so without complaint. He loves his job. He’ll go to every one of the endless meetings if he gets to keep going through the 'gate afterward. But still, for a minute, when he remembers that it’s fall outside he is willing to trade everything he’s achieved in his life to be with his cousins rolling around in the leaves and having a hot mug of cider on his aunt’s big front porch.

It’s only a minute, but it leaves him with an ache in his chest that he can’t quite shake.

Finished with his own meetings for the day, Cam takes a walk through the base to try to calm his restlessness. He’s used to being active, and one-on-one basketball with Jackson only takes off so much of the edge. He swings through the ‘gate room and glances up to see Walter looking particularly harried. Since the ‘gate is down, Cam can’t think what could be making him gesture with quite so much animation. He goes to check it out.

It’s John. Of course it’s John. His feet are up on the dark control panel, and he has his most insufferable smirk on his face. It’s the one that makes Cam want to kiss him, just to see it turn into something real, but they’re on the clock, in the base. Not going to happen.

“Sir, this equipment is very delicate, and if you could please just – “ Walter is saying.

“Hey, Mitchell,” John says, his smirk growing into a smile. “All done for the day?”

“Yep,” Cam replies. “Just about to hit the mess, if you want to join me.” It’s casual, like they’re just friends, and most of the time they are. But when they aren’t, when they have the rare chance to be in the same galaxy and the even rarer chance to be Cam and John and not Mitchell and Sheppard… oh, there’s so much more.

“I’ve got a better idea.” John’s feet thud to the floor, and he sends a jaunty wave over his shoulder to Walter as they walk away.

“What’s that?” Cam asks, feeling a little breathless. Maybe it’s the stale, recycled air. The ache in his chest is stronger.

“Pie,” John says.

Cam has tasted the paste-covered cardboard they call pie in the mess. He makes a little disgusted sound.

“No, *pie*,” John tells him and turns toward the elevator. “There’s a new coffee shop off base, and they have the best apple pie I’ve ever tasted.”

Cam thinks of driving away with John, even for an hour, the crisp autumn wind in their hair and the sunset painting pictures across the sky above them. He thinks of John across the table from him, their boots just barely touching. He thinks of apples and ice cream, of cinnamon and the warmth in John’s eyes. It sounds perfect.

He can't say that, of course, not with where and who they are, but it does sound like a little bit heaven right at that moment.

“Now, my Great-Aunt Lilah’s pie was widely regarded as the eighth wonder of the world,” Cam says instead, following him. “This shop of yours will have to take second place.”

“Hey, I know a thing or two about pie,” John says. “Trust me.”

Cam matches John’s smile as they enter the elevator and rise toward the sky. Toward fall. Toward freedom, if only for a little while.


End file.
